


A period drama.

by werewolve



Series: Ineffable Husbands Ficlets [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Ineffable Wives, M/M, except its not a gender swap because they're genderless, gender swap, so they're just presenting femininely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 19:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolve/pseuds/werewolve
Summary: i love the 19th century too much





	A period drama.

The 19th Century was one of Aziraphale’s favourites, and one of Crowley’s least favourites.

Of course, nothing would ever compare to the 14th Century, but even so. Crowley had decided to sleep through the 19th, she didn’t care for it as much as she cared for her rest. Alas, her bladder wasn’t as sleep-adoring, and Aziraphale happened to be around at the time of her toilet break in 1832. 

This lead to the situation now. 

Crowley and Aziraphale had been living in a ‘small’ chateau in France for the last week. Aziraphale insisting that Crowley stay awake long enough to at the very least try some of Paris’ ‘absolutely scrumptious food’ as she had worded it. 

The Demon saw a quite large issue in perusing France for food in the very midst of the June Rebellion- but well, Aziraphale was hard to say no to. 

So here they were. 

Crowley had woken with a start that morning to see Aziraphale’s lady’s maid in her room (hard to stay in a castle without a lady’s maid for a cover story), knocking on the frame of her bed. 

“Pardon, Madame, your friend asked me to come and get you. She said it was urgent.” 

The Demon simply grunted, nodding and waving the maid off, “Merci, you may go.” 

The young woman nodded swiftly, gave a laugh inwardly at Crowley’s severe bed head, and whisked herself away to attend to her duties. 

Crowley on the other hand rolled grumpily out of bed and dressed herself quickly. Her attire was not standard for a lady of the 19th Century, instead of a dress she bore trousers and a long heavy coat. The resulting stares were ones she treasured. 

Rushing herself over to Aziraphale’s room, the Demon rapped on the door, and then simply let herself in, to be met with a shocked Angel. 

“Crowley! I’m not even decent!” 

“Well,” She smirked a little at that statement, especially considering the Angel already had on about two layers of undergarments, “Madmoiselle Éléonore told me you were in urgent need of me.” 

“Oh.” The Angel replied, shaking her head, “Well I thought you’d take longer to be ready, as usual.” 

“Not today, Angel.” 

“In that case... would you be a dear and help me with this corset? I can never reach the ribbon.” Aziraphale emphasised this point by flailing her hand behind her, attempting (and of course failing) to grab at the tie that pulled the corset closed.

Crowley simply hummed, walking over and gently taking the ribbon into her own hands, beginning quick work on the garment, “What is on the agenda today?” 

“Ah well, the sun is shining, I thought a walk through the grounds would be nice.” 

“Nothing before that?” 

“Nothing besides breakfast, but I haven’t asked Éléonore to begin that yet, so I suspect the servants wont even have been woken.” Aziraphale turned a little to Crowley, pushing a white blonde curl that lay out of her pinned hair behind her ear, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason at all,” Crowley looked passed Aziraphale’s shoulder to make eye contact with her in the mirror, her sunglasses low on her nose to do so. And then she pressed a kiss to the bare part of Aziraphale’s shoulder, “I just thought perhaps if we had time.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide, and she swatted at Crowley’s hands, turning to face her stubbornly. 

This was met with a teasing laugh from the Demon. 

“Crowley! You are entirely too perverse,” The Angel shook her head, reaching for her overdress and stepping into it quickly. 

Crowley merely shook her head and leaned against the Angel’s bed frame, watching her with an adoring gaze. 

After a moment, Aziraphale stood, quickly checked herself in her mirror, and then walked swiftly over to Crowley, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her lips, “Later. You wily snake.” 

Crowley raised a brow, and followed after her Angel as she swiftly continued on towards the staircase, “Later it is then.”


End file.
